


The Bunker

by SadakoTetsuwan



Series: Peapod McHanzo Week 2018 [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Day 1, M/M, Peapod McHanzo Week, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 12:05:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13247877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadakoTetsuwan/pseuds/SadakoTetsuwan
Summary: Day 1 - Oh No, We Have To Share A Bed--Just something quick to start the week off! <3





	The Bunker

“Hanzo’s down, I’m shot—we ain't gonna be able to make it. Y'all need to withdraw, now!”

“We can't just leave you!”

“You can come back fer us later—we'll meet you at the backup rendezvous, location, uh, BKW-Iota Mu-5.391, clearance code Yellow Submarine, Athena'll unlock coordinates for ya with that, but we’ve all gotta _go!_ ”

* * *

 

“C’mon, there’s an old Blackwatch safe house near here,” McCree said, his hand wrapped around his bleeding bicep.

“What sort of supplies?” Hanzo asked, panting softly as they moved. He had just barely come around after that last time summoning the dragons, and his footfalls were unusually heavy and uneven. He was not in a state to be running anywhere, but they certainly couldn’t stop here, with Talon operatives possibly still crawling around.

“Uhh, medical. Weapons— _lotsa_ weapons,” McCree said. After all, he’d been the one to set up and stock this little hidey-hole, and he figured if he ever needed to use it, 'bigger guns' would probably be the reason why.

“I’m guessing not much in the way of food?” Hanzo muttered.

“Mostly MREs—stuff that could keep fer a long time. Even then, don’t know how much is left, or how much is good,” McCree replied. “Been a little while since it was restocked.”

Hanzo kept close as they wove through alleyways and under dilapidated fire escapes before helping McCree shoulder open an old rusty door. It looked like it lead into the delivery area for a shop that hadn’t seen traffic in a decade. McCree crossed the room before carefully doubling back through his footprints on the grimy floor, returning to a certain square of tiles.

“Move over,” he muttered, reaching down and lifting the trap door they hid. “Unless someone knows what they’re lookin’ for, they ought not t’ notice this. After you,” he added, gesturing to the hole.

Hanzo had no energy to argue—and it seemed clear that no one had found this place in quite a long time anyway, so the dingy hole in the floor was their best bet. He clambered down into the darkness, groping through shadows for a light switch, a flashlight, _anything_. The light from above was quickly blocked out as McCree carefully climbed down as well.

“Can’t get the hatch down with m’ arm all shot up,” he hissed, his descent slow. “I’ll get the light on if you get the door.”

“Very well,” Hanzo sighed, dragging himself up the ladder and pulling the trap door shut again. The darkness only lasted for a moment before McCree’s lighter filled the hole with weak light—just enough for him to find the generator and kick it to life.

“Only ‘bout half power,” he remarked. “Rats must’ve chewed through the lines to the solar panel on the roof…”

“How long will that last us?” Hanzo asked, leaning against the ladder.

“Long enough,” McCree said, “My distress beacon’s workin’ fine. It’ll only be a day or two ‘fore it’s safe fer Ray or Lena t’ get to the backup rendezvous point an’ pick us up.” The overhead lights kicked on with a soft buzz, revealing a small bunker, kitted out for immediate post-apocalyptic survival more than anything else. Ammunition crates were stacked in a corner, and overturned 10-gallon buckets and old wooden pallets seemed to make up the bedframe for a small, lumpy mattress. “Here, jes’ lay down and rest—looks like those dragons really take it outta you. I’m gonna patch up my arm, an’ when we’re both not runnin’ on fumes, I’ll see about some chow. Sound good?”

Silence. McCree looked up from the med kit he was currently examining to see Hanzo already slumped over on the hard mattress, sleeping soundly. McCree smiled in relief, pulling his serape from his shoulders and gingerly draping it over Hanzo. They’d made it out…

It took him a few moments, after cleaning his bullet wound and filling the hole with possibly-expired biotic gel, before he realized.

They were going to have to _share_ that tiny bed for the next few days.


End file.
